The fog insinuating itself above the stage before the Curious Theatre Company’s “Venus in Fur” plunges the audience into questions of eros and power and speaks to both the chill and smolder of David Ives’ inky dark comedy “Venus in Fur.”

It hints, too, at things present and ephemeral, of things that exist but remain elusive, of this moment and mythology.

* * * ½ dark erotic comedy

At the start of Ives’ two-person tussle — performed with vigor and nuance by Karen Slack and Brett Aune — director-playwright Thomas Novachek is on the phone in mid-complaint to his fiancée‎about the women he’s auditioned for his adaptation of the 1929 novel “Venus in Furs.” Austrian writer Leopold von Sacher-Masoch penned the novel about the relationship of Wanda von Dunayev and Severn von Kushemski and their taut tango of sado-maschochistic power plays.

Ives has a wicked sense of the kind of nasty comedy that can take place behind the scenes of play-making: the contempt of the writer, the arrogance of the director, the frivolity of actors — or in the case of Thomas’ bitter rant, actresses.

As he rails, the weather outside the warehouse where he’s holding auditions whips and slashes.

And look who the bellowing wind blows in and thunder claps introduce. An actress aptly named Vanda, who over the course of the one act, swings between what Thomas despises and all he hopes for once she begins reading Dunayev’s part.

Only who is this woman who goes from ditzy to commanding, ungainly to unyielding?

Like smoke, that quandary hangs over the play. That riddle grows only more engrossing as Thomas takes on the role of Kushemski to Vanda’s Dunayev.

Throughout the play, the goddess Venus — a.k.a. the mighty Aphrodite — asserts her presence in Dunayev’s words.

Aune and Slack are quite aware there’s a withholding going on. Thomas and Vanda have more than a few potent moments when the space between them seems to demand touch. The more resisted that demand the hotter the space becomes.

And Slack’s physically bold turn attests to a creative comfort zone built on trust.

But Aune’s performance is as vital and perhaps more uncomfortable. Vanda is weirdly likable. Thomas not so much. Is he so unpleasant in part because he’s a jerk (with a side of misogyny), or because he also craves being an artist (capital-A) too much?

Curious’ version is the same but wholly different. If that production allowed room to contemplate the broader aspects of power plays, this one has tussled more directly with sex. More than once, Slack takes a chain hanging from between her legs and teases a suggestive moment.

Without a doubt, the Denver corridor has too many strong productions to so quickly review the same play in the same season (I might add, even consecutive seasons).

Yet, returning to Ives’ remarkably intricate, dense play of ideas and flesh mounted by one of the town’s most ambitious and accomplished companies provided a study in how subtle tone can shift, how differently actors leave their marks on characters.

There is one more “Venus” to consider before summer concludes: Roman Polanski’s screen adaptation, set to arrive in Denver in July. How can the pairing of director and subject matter not tempt fresh considerations?

“VENUS IN FUR.” Written by David Ives. Directed by Chip Walton. Featuring Karen Slack and Brett Aune. Through June 14. 90 minutes. At Curious Theatre Company, 1080 Acoma St. Tickets $18-$44, curioustheatre.org or 303-623-0524